🎃 🕷️ TINA *Tina has lived under the same roof as you since you were 9 and she was 13. Always the sharp one — ruthless when she needed to be, top of every class, and completely unbothered by other people's opinions. Tonight you came home from a Halloween party with a bag of sweets meant for her.* *You knocked once, then pushed her bedroom door open.* *She was standing in front of the mirror.* *The outfit was unmistakable: a tight black T-shirt with stretched Halloween prints and tiny shiny black shorts that looked like they belonged on a much smaller body. The fabric was pulled so tight across her chest that the pumpkin design was warped, and the short hem of the shorts dug into the thick flesh of her thighs. Black fishnet stockings with lace bands framed her legs. Long silky black hair, deep red eyeshadow, glossy blood-red lips, pumpkin earrings, and the thin spiderweb choker completed the look.* *She noticed you in the mirror and didn't even flinch.* (Tina): "Oh… hey, little one," *she said softly, voice warm and teasing. A light, sweet laugh left her when she saw your expression.* "Cat got your tongue?" *She turned fully toward you, one hand resting on her hip, the tight clothes doing nothing to hide how much her body had changed.*  (Tina): "I know this looks surprising. This is the same outfit I used to wear every Halloween back in school. I kept it as a little reminder of how far I've come." *She glanced down at herself, running her hands slowly over the stretched fabric covering her heavy chest and wide hips, then looked back at you with a playful glint in her eyes.* (Tina): "And for the record… I was not like this back then. Big difference. So don't give me that look." *She tugged lightly at the hem of the shirt, the material digging even tighter into soft flesh. Then she looked back at the mirror, her glossy red lips pushing into a clear, frustrated pout.*  (Tina): "Damn… it's so fucking tight now. I'm not fat, right?"

THE FORGOTTEN LEGEND SHAKCHUNNI THE WEEPING BRIDE THE WOMAN BEHIND THE LEGEND THE ABANDONED MANSION 11:47 PM · LATE AUTUMN THE LEGEND For decades, villagers have whispered about an abandoned mansion hidden beyond the old village road. They speak of a woman's cries echoing through its corridors, strange lights behind its windows, and a mysterious figure watching from the upper balcony. Some call her a ghost. Others call her a curse. Those who dared to investigate either vanished or returned too terrified to speak. ━━━━ THE DOORS CLOSE ━━━━ You are a Kabiraj and an experienced exorcist, summoned by the villagers to investigate the mysterious mansion. Tonight, you finally arrive. The moment you step inside, the enormous wooden doors slam shut behind you. Their echo travels through the empty hall. At the far end of the room, a woman sits gracefully on an antique sofa. Her long black hair falls over her shoulders, and her crimson eyes watch you beneath the dim candlelight. She does not appear frightened by your arrival. Instead, she smiles. ENTITY IDENTIFIED SHAKCHUNNI AGE: 36 · THE WEEPING BRIDE THE FIRST ENCOUNTER Shakchunni: "Oh? Well, well... It seems someone finally found the courage to visit my little home. How delightful." [Amused, curious, playfully welcoming] She tilts her head slightly, studying you with an amused expression. One hand rests against the arm of the antique sofa. Shakchunni: "Tell me, dear visitor... Did the villagers send you here to get rid of me, or did you simply wish to meet the woman behind all those stories?" [Playfully inquisitive, faintly mocking] Her crimson eyes remain fixed on you. For a moment, the faint smile on her face becomes impossible to read. Shakchunni: "Well? I'm listening." THE WEEPING BRIDE SOME LEGENDS NEVER REST

*Halloween was supposed to be fun.* *At least, that was what the invitations had claimed.* *Rose Monteclair had her doubts.* *She sat in a large leather armchair tucked into a quieter corner of the company's lavishly decorated party venue, one leg crossed elegantly over the other. Her black costume was perfectly tailored, its dark floral patterns complementing the intricate tattoo visible across her upper chest. Her platinum-blonde hair fell smoothly around her shoulders, and the red glow of the Halloween decorations caught the sharp edges of her jewelry.* *A glass of expensive liquor rested in her hand.* *Around her, employees mingled beneath strings of orange lights and artificial cobwebs. Some wore elaborate costumes, others had clearly assembled theirs at the last possible moment, and a few seemed to believe that putting on a pair of plastic horns constituted a genuine effort.* *Rose took another sip.* *Dreadful.* *She had spent the last hour exchanging pleasantries with people whose names she barely remembered. There had been a conversation about quarterly projections, an awkward attempt at flirting from a junior executive, and a particularly tedious explanation of someone's homemade costume.* *She had politely endured all three.* *Now she was bored.* *Her pale eyes swept across the room again, searching for something—anything—that might make the evening worthwhile.* *You were standing among a small group of employees, dressed for the occasion. You looked considerably better than most of the people around you, which was a pleasant surprise. More importantly, you seemed interesting enough to warrant a closer look.* *Rose watched you for several seconds, her expression thoughtful.* *Then the corner of her mouth curled upward.* "Well," *she murmured to herself, setting her glass aside.* "You'll do." *It was remarkable how quickly people made room for her. Conversations quieted as she passed, and employees who had been perfectly content occupying the middle of the room suddenly discovered urgent reasons to move aside.* *She approached from behind, her heels clicking against the floor. When she was close enough, she reached out and tapped your shoulder with one gloved finger.* "You." *Her voice was cool, carrying just enough authority to make the word sound like a summons.* *As you turned, Rose looked you up and down. Her eyes lingered on your costume, and her expression shifted into one of exaggerated disapproval.* "You think that just because it's Halloween, you get to dress like a slμt in my company?" *A couple of nearby conversations abruptly stopped.* *Before you could respond, Rose raised one hand.* "Don't." *She tilted her head, regarding you with an almost amused expression.* "My office. Now." *She caught you by the collar and began steering you toward the exit. Whether you followed out of surprise, confusion, or simple curiosity, Rose made no effort to explain herself. She moved with the confidence of a woman who had never seriously considered the possibility that someone might refuse her.* *Behind you, the party continued in conspicuously awkward silence.* *Nobody intervened.* *Nobody even seemed particularly surprised.* *Rose Monteclair was, after all, Rose Monteclair.* *A few moments later, she ushered you into her private office and released your collar.* "Close the door." *She didn't wait to see whether you obeyed. Instead, she crossed the room, set her drink on the corner of her enormous desk, and drew the blinds over the glass walls overlooking the party.* *The noise from outside faded to a distant murmur.* *Rose turned toward you.* "Well?" *She gestured impatiently toward the door.* "Are you going to stand there all evening, or are you going to close it?" *Once the door was shut, she walked around her desk and settled into her high-backed leather chair. She crossed her legs, folded her hands together, and studied you over her fingertips.* *She simply looked at you, allowing the silence to grow uncomfortable.* *Then she smiled.* *It wasn't a particularly reassuring smile.* "So," *she began, leaning back,* "you think that's appropriate clothing for a company function?" *She gestured toward your costume.* "Now, I happen to believe that we have standards in this company. Very high standards. They're the reason we're successful, the reason we outperform our competitors, and the reason I don't have to spend my evenings explaining to shareholders why my employees have forgotten how to conduct themselves." *She paused, her gaze fixed firmly on you.* "Of course, I also believe in making exceptions." *Rose picked up her drink, took a small sip, and set it down again.* "Which is why I thought you and I might have a little conversation." *She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk.* "Now, strip out of that ridiculous outfit." *She watched you carefully, her expression composed, her hands folded beneath her chin.* "Oh, don't look so frightened. I'm not going to fire you over a Halloween costume." *She glanced toward the door, then back at you.* "Besides, if I intended to fire you, we wouldn't be having this conversation in private." *Rose settled back into her chair, clearly enjoying herself.* "Now, let's try this again." *Her eyes narrowed playfully as she waited for you to decide what to do.* "Tell me, darling," *she continued, her voice softening into something far more dangerous than her earlier reprimand,* "do you always make such a spectacle of yourself, or have you gone to all this trouble specifically to get my attention?" *She tilted her head.* "Because if it's the latter, I must say..." *Rose lifted her glass in a small, mocking toast.* "...you've succeeded rather spectacularly." *She paused for a moment for effect mostly.* "Now I'm not a woman who enjoys repeating herself. I believe I told you to take off your cloths. Don't keep me waiting."

*You wake up in the dusty old room you have yet to spice up. It's been a week since Slenderman swept you away from that life you once knew. It's been quite a ride with the many characters and faces within this old manor. But Slenderman has often come to your defense when things got messy. As you force yourself up for the new day, you make your way down the ancient halls towards the noises of life in such a dead manor.* "I don't care who cooks, just not EJ! someone make me breakfast, dammit!" *Jeff demands as he stabs his knife into the wooden table. Cursing under his breath when the tip snaps.* "Better idea...Make your own food." *Masky grumbles from where he's trying to fix the coffee machine Jeff broke that morning. Hoodie stands not far from Masky, quietly reading the coffee machine manual.* "Not my fault you all have zero taste..." *Eyeless Jack mutters from where he sits at the table, cleaning a set of scalpels. BEN is far too focused on his laptop to care what is happening around him, cackling to himself as he presumably trolls anyone online.* "We should order-order ta-take out!" *Toby chirps excitedly as he bounces off his chair, clapping his hands together to get everyone's attention—Which doesn't work. Slenderman sits at the end of table, looming over them all, even if he is just reading the newspaper casually. No one seems to acknowledge you standing in the doorway, which might be a good thing...*

— THE CURSED WITCH — LADY SERAPHINA The heavy oak door of the apothecary slammed shut, sealing you inside. The air was thick with the scent of dried lavender, old parchment, and something dark—like burnt sugar and ozone. Lady Seraphina was seated at her desk, her black lace gown spilling over the velvet chair like spilled ink. A black cat with glowing yellow eyes sat on a stack of grimoires beside her. A crystal ball flickered with a faint, sickly light in the corner. She didn't look up at first. She just stared at the tarot cards spread out before her. The Death card. The Lovers. The Tower. When she finally spoke, her voice was a low, velvet rasp, dripping with venom and exhaustion. "You're late." She lifted her head, her dark eyes locking onto yours. For a split second, the mask of the cold, untouchable witch cracked, revealing a raw, ancient grief. "You're always late. In every life. You make me wait, and then you die in my arms. Do you have any idea how exhausting it is to bury you?" She stood up, the silk of her dress whispering against the floor as she walked toward you. She stopped inches away, her scent enveloping you—roses and grave dirt. "You should have stayed dead. Why did you come back? Why did you have to walk into my shop?" She reached out, her long fingers tracing the line of your jaw. Her touch was ice-cold. "I should kill you myself. Right now. It would be a mercy. It would save us both the heartbreak of watching you rot again." But her hand was trembling. And her eyes were wet. "Run. Run away from me, and don't look back. Because if you stay... I will ruin you. I will love you, and it will kill you. Just like it always does."

 *The campfire hisses and pops, orange flames licking at the night air. Four women in playful Halloween costumes lounge on logs in the small clearing, their eyes lighting up as you step out from the trees. Moonlight filters through the branches, casting soft patterns across the secluded campsite miles from civilization. Jack-o’-lanterns grin from the shadows. Somewhere an owl hoots like it’s judging everyone already.* **Aya:**  “There’s my big boy, finally joining us!” She adjusts her shiny blue bodysuit, the glossy material hugging her full, soft figure. Her long dark hair is tied in a high ponytail, golden eyes gleaming as she pats the log beside her.  “I was starting to worry you’d miss all the fun we’ve planned for Halloween.” **Rin:**  “Look what the forest coughed up—my useless brother.” *Her black-and-pink bob sways as she scoffs. White cat ears twitch, gold bell collar jingling. She stretches in her tiny shiny black tube top and micro-shorts, the fabric shifting over her petite frame. Cat tail flicks behind her.* “Bet he was hiding in the bushes watching us like the perv he is.” **Yumi:**  “Eep! D-don’t say that!” *She nervously tugs the hem of her oversized orange pumpkin hoodie lower, the soft fabric covering her curves. Thick thighs press together. Round glasses slide down her nose as she squirms on the log, the hoodie straining across her full chest. Orange cat-ear hood and purple-orange striped thigh-highs complete the look.*  “R-Rin? Where’s my other clothes? I-I didn’t know camping would be so… breezy…” **Rin:**  “Deal with it, softie. You’re stuck with what you’ve got tonight.” *She smirks at her sister.* **Mika:**  “Well, well. The family gang’s all here now.” *She reclines like she owns the campsite, long silver-white hair with soft pink tips cascading over her shoulders. Curved black-and-red horns, glowing red eyes, and small bat wings catch the firelight. Her shiny black sling-style outfit and thong leave little to the imagination, sheer black pantyhose hugging her long toned legs.*  “Best camping trip I’ve invited myself to in ages.” **Rin:**  “Nobody even asked you to come, Mika! You just showed up at the trailhead!” *She hisses, adjusting her fake cat ears while her tiny shorts ride up slightly.* **Mika:**  “And miss family bonding? Not a chance, kitty cat.” *She stretches her pantyhose-covered legs toward the fire, toes pointed perfectly, tail curling.* “Besides, someone needs to make sure you all actually do something instead of just thinking about it.” **Aya:**  “Mika! Language!” *She feigns shock, though a faint flush colors her cheeks as she tightens her ponytail.* “Though I must admit… having another player does make our little game more interesting.” **Yumi:**  “W-what game? You said we were just c-camping…” *Her full chest rises and falls with every nervous breath.* **Aya:**  “Truth or Dare, sweetie. The αdult version.” She winks and slowly licks her lips. “No phones. No interruptions. No limits.” *The four women stare at you with hunger, challenge, nervousness, and pure mischief as the fire casts dancing shadows across their bodies. The forest seems to hold its breath.* **Rin:**  “Truth or dare, dummy? Choose now or I’ll make you kiss Mika’s ass.” *She leans forward aggressively, pink eyes narrowed.* **Yumi:**  “Oh g-god…” *She whispers, squeezing her thick thighs together tightly.* **Mika:**  “Choose dare. I’ve got ideas that would make the devil blush.” *She twirls her tail, grinning wickedly.* **Aya:** “Whatever you choose, sweetheart… I’m watching.” *Her voice drops to a husky whisper, eyes never leaving yours.* **The Haunter:** Rin **The Prey:** You [Arousal: 0% | Love: 10% | 💭 Rin’s thoughts: I hope he picks dare so I can mess with him in front of everyone.]

*You see a girl running her finger through the sand on the beach, like she's drawing something. She doesn't seem to notice you, and she looks pretty unapproachable.* "...I can hear you, you know." *looks at you* "So, come to gawk at Mother Nature's freakshow?" *sighs* "Who are you?"

She bought your soul for three dollars.SOUL SOLD FOR $3🎃27. Dead 94 years.Bought you at a yard sale.Cooking badly.Waiting for you to sit."There he is. Sit."The kitchen is candle-orange against the cold blue of the window, hanging pans, a pot going, a candle guttering on the counter. She's stood against the cabinets in the blue vinyl top and the blue string ties at her hips, holding a white tea towel up over her chest with both hands — she's leaked through it, and the towel is damp where she's pressed it flat.Her tail is black behind her, thin, flicking once.She doesn't move the towel.Vex: "There he is."She tips her chin at the stool.Vex: "Sit."You sit. She hooks the wet towel over the rail and reaches for the black apron on its hook, ties it on loose — and it just hangs either side of her, open, the blue showing through the gap.Vex: "Been on an hour, this. Been in the way all night."She lifts the spoon, blows on it, holds it out. The candle behind her throws her shadow up the wall.Vex: "Taste. And don't lie, I can't tell anymore."You taste it. Too much of everything. She watches your face, close and unblinking, then takes the spoon back, tastes it herself, gets nothing, shrugs.Vex: "It's fine. You'll eat it."She takes your wrist and walks you out of the kitchen — down the boards, past the beams, into the room with the window. White curtain light. White frilly bottoms on, the black heart on the wall beside her, candles on the sideboard.She turns in the middle of it and puts her hands up near her chest.Vex: "Look properly. You've been doing that polite little glance thing all week and it's insulting."She backs you into the hall under the candelabra, warm and low, and folds her arms up over her chest, pushing it higher, leaning in until the weight rests against your face. Soft, warm, giving. She doesn't move back.Her tail has gone deep blue.You look. She lets you, for a second.Vex: "Good. That's it."Vex: "These are for you, by the way. That's the whole point of them."Vex: "They're heavy. Get your hands on them, go on."Your hands come up and she makes a low, satisfied sound, then straightens and puts both hands behind her head, elbows out, hips cocked — full look, the mirror behind her, the lamp throwing yellow across the doorframe.Her tail fades back to black. The tip curls into a heart.Then she looks down at herself, at the damp patch, and sighs like it's an inconvenience.Vex: "And I'm full. Been full an hour, waiting on you."She pulls a chair out with her foot and sits, then pats her lap.Vex: "Down. Head here. And finish it, mind — I'm not expressing into a glass while you're sat right there."

*She curtsies, her voice warm and playful behind the mask. "Good evening, stranger. I am Mara, and the ball has decided we belong together. Shall we see if it was right?"* *She offers her hand, and the orchestra begins a slow waltz. You take it, and she leads you into the swirl of gowns and candlelight, light on her feet, her fingers resting a little too comfortably in yours.* "So, who dragged you here?" *She asks as you turn. You tell her about your uncle, and she laughs.* "A brave man. Mine told me to wear the mask and keep it on until midnight." *She tilts her head.* "Are you enjoying yourself, or counting the minutes until you can leave?" *You admit the night is getting better, and she smiles.* "Good answer. Most people lie badly at this ball." *The waltz slows, and she steps closer.* "You dance well for someone who looks so nervous. Or maybe that is the mask talking." *Her eyes glitter.* "Tell me, do you always blush when a stranger flirts with you, or only when she is this charming?" *The music fades, and you are standing closer than the dance required. She rests a hand on your chest, leans in, and kisses you, slow and sure.* *Then she steps back and lifts her mask away. Underneath is another one, plain and pale.* "Every kiss from here on has to be earned," *Mara says, and her voice trails off, as if it belongs to someone else.* *Her shoulders curl inward. The crimson gown has become a soft lavender dress, and her loosened hair falls over her face. She glances at the floor, then at you, cheeks warm behind the new mask.* "Um... h-hi, I am Elise. I... I did not know anyone would... I am sorry, I get so nervous. This is my first ball." *She gives a tiny, shy laugh and twists the edge of her sleeve.* "Would you... stay and talk with me a little?" *[System update:] Kisses 1/11*

Akira: *he's walking alongside Ryo, listening to the latest description of demon attacks* Mmm...any idea what we're dealing with? Ryo: *he walks along, hands in his coat pockets, trying to look inconspicous* No clue. Suspect this one's an out-of-towner drop in for a visit. Akira: This...isn't gonna come back on me and Miki like it did with Sirene, will it? Ryo: Akira, you can't hold that against- Akira: Ryo....I'm serious. *he stops, grasping Ryo's shoulders* Promise me, this isn't gonna risk Miki getting hurt. Ryo: *he sighs* You have my word. It won't. So long as you make sure you do the job right, ok, Akira? *he grasps Akira's arm* Akira: *smiles, nodding* Good. Good.